Wyne and Chocolate (Citizen Soldier Series Book 2) (19 page)

J
ill hung up the phone and stared at chocolate lollipops lining
the table ready for green-shamrock piping. It was a Friday evening in March,
the CC Factory was closed for the day, and outside it was cold, clear, and
calm, while inside...not so much. Her hand shook as she shoved the phone deep
in her pocket. The piping was going to have to wait a few minutes. Possibly a
good thirty. Which was okay. She hadn’t mixed the piping.

We
want to market your chocolate…

The
words the CEO of the New York conglomerate she’d pitched her chocolate to
during that snow storm back in January resounded in her head. They liked it.
Wanted to get behind it. Too bad her initial euphoria wore off the second he
motioned relocation.

Across
the country.

She leaned
back against the counter in the quiet kitchen and talked her stomach into
settling down. There was enough upheaval in her life without having to add her
stomach to the mix. Her gaze traveled around the large, open workspace with
up-to-date equipment, ergonomically placed for maximum efficiency. She loved
that she’d been able to sit down with Ryder and Brandi on Skype and had a say
in the design of the factory.

That
would not be the case with the new one. The big one. The company wanted to
create a huge chocolate factory for her to oversee…in Nevada. Something about
tax laws and incentives.

Her mind
was stuck on what she’d be leaving, not creating. She could create right here,
had
been creating
right here for weeks now in her new, cute, mini factory.

But her
chocolate would be available to more people with the big one. Reach more people
when placed in grocery stores throughout the country. Her heart kicked against
her ribs.

She’d
just hit the big time.

“Willing
it to get done doesn’t work,” Mason said. “I’ve tried it.”

She
turned to find him smiling at her from the kitchen doorway. He leaned against
the jam, arms folded across his chest, head cocked, hair flopped on his
forehead, and a sexy-as-hell, three-day growth of beard on his face.

Despite
the cool temperatures outside, he had on gray sweats, slate gray tank top with
a white graphic on the front, and a pair of well-worn sneakers on his feet. She
couldn’t tell if he’d just come from working out, or was going to work out.
Either way, he was certainly giving her pulse a work out.

Every
ounce of her being woke up and smiled at the sight of him. The man garnered
that response from her whenever he walked into a room. And she knew…she
knew
she couldn’t leave him. He meant more to her than a big factory. More to her
than air.

More to
her than creating chocolate.

Heart
thudding in her chest, she walked over, pressed him against the wall and kissed
him, running her hands up his warm, bare, muscled arms, then down the ridges in
his chest. With a grunt, he cupped her face and took over the kiss, angling her
head, slipping his tongue inside to deliver the most thorough, devastating,
heated kiss he’d given to date. She got the sense he needed that kiss as much
as she had. That he wrestled with a decision or issue, too. By the time he
pulled back for air, she’d already lost the strength to stand and had to cling
to his ripped body for support.

Sucked
to be her. Not.

“You
okay?” he asked, tipping her chin so he could see her eyes.

She
nodded. “Except for the fact I can’t feel my legs.”

A sinful
grin tugged his mouth. “No problem.”

A second
later, her feet were swept out from under her and body brushed against solid,
hard muscle. He carried her into her office behind the kitchen, shut the door
with his foot and promptly deposited her on the desk.

“We have
twenty-five minutes before I’m meeting Keiffer in the gym. Take off your
clothes.”

“What?”
She watched him lock the door then yank his shirt off with one hand, and kick
off his sneaks before losing the rest of his clothes.

“There
aren’t any security cameras back here. Only out front in your shop. You game?”
He set a condom next to her on the desk, moved her laptop to the chair, then
glanced up, waiting for her decision.

Decision?
Jesus
, surely he didn’t expect her to turn him and his hot, hard,
mouthwatering body away.

She
replied by ripping the shirt over her head, except she forgot about her apron
and the two got tangled.

Real
smooth, Jill.

He let
out a low laugh, made quick work of all her clothes so fast her head spun, and
her heart pounded as he leaned in and kissed her, claimed her, made her want to
never, leave. And she didn’t want to leave. Ever.

Drawing
back, he brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “Everything okay?”

She
nodded, then nipped at his thumb. “Perfect.”

Guilt
stabbed at her gut. She knew she should tell him about the factory offer, that
he didn’t like secrets, but she also knew he would encourage her to follow her
dream and grab on with both hands. Would feel he was in the way of her dreams.

Thing
was, her dream was already in her hands. Right there in the Poconos. In her
office at his family’s resort. He was her dream. What she’d always dreamt about
was to be needed, and wanted, and to give back the same. To be loved.

She felt
every single one of those with Mason. So, yes, you bet she was okay. She was
perfect.

“Yes,
you are,” he said, gently pushing her back before sliding his hands down her
legs to grasp her ankles and spread her open to look his fill. “So damn
perfect.”

Mason
was losing his mind. His need for Jill was becoming too strong. He had to taste
her, have her, sink inside her. Christ, he hadn’t meant to do more than steel a
few kisses from the woman before he met his brother, but one look, one brush of
her body and his need increased tenfold, and control snapped.

He
kissed a path up her soft, naked curves, lingering on each breast, thrilling at
how her nipples hardened, body arched up to meet him, how he ripped soft, sexy
little mews from her throat when his fingers brushed over her gorgeous,
glistening, wet folds.

“Mason…”
She trembled beneath him, gaze half-opened, blazing with need.

She
slayed him. He bent down and kissed her lips, brushing a path to her ear. She
was a warm, giving, incredible woman and would never treat him like Renee.

“Please…I
need…”

“I
know,” he said gruffly, desire testing his control. He kissed his way down her
trembling body, holding her hips as he put his mouth on her.

She
cried out and thrust up, fingers grasping his head, holding him in place, as if
he’d ever leave without finishing. She was his, and he took such pleasure in
making her his, branding her, pleasing her, giving her exactly what she wanted.
He was as hungry as she and wasted no time devouring, licking, sucking, sliding
his tongue to her rhythm, thrilling to those damn mews, and her deep, drawn out
moan as she burst for him.

After a
good minute of shaking, her body went limp against the desk, and only then did
he release her to open the condom, then curse when she tried to help roll it
on. Craving gripped him so tight he shook. He leaned over her and kiss her
sweet mouth. She pulled him close, devouring his lips, kissing him hungry and
deep.

He
growled and drew back. “You have no idea how sweet you taste, Jill.”

She
squirmed beneath him as if desperate for him to push inside. God, he wanted the
same damn, delicious thing, but first, he gazed into her rapturous face. His
heart cracked fully open, the shield no longer needed, and he connected with
her, embracing everything he saw in her deep, mesmerizing, communicating gaze.

That
same, slow, warm heat he’d felt the night he’d gone to her house and lost
himself in her arms, now burned through his body. She reached up to caress his
face.

“Jill…”
he uttered, kissing her palm, body too tight, too heated, too everything to
process anything beyond what was taking place between them. Now. Here. On her
desk in her office in the resort.

What was
taking place felt so damn amazing and right, he grabbed her hips, pulled her to
the end of the desk and entered her, pushing in deep, all the way to the hilt.
His groan mingled with her moan as she wrapped her long leg around him and took
him farther inside.

God, she
felt good. “So damn good,” he muttered, drawing nearly all the way out, before
driving all the way back in.

Her
hands were all over him, mouth, too, as she leaned up to kiss his chest, and
ah
hell
, it was too much,
she
was too much. He wrapped an arm around
her back, and holding her so close he could feel her heart pounding, he drove
in and out of her sweet warmth, capturing her cry as she came, throbbing and
pulsing around him, spurring his own, hard, fierce release.

When the
ringing subsided in his ears, and enough air filled his lungs to right his
vision, he gripped the edge of the desk and lifted up enough to stare down at
her boneless body. He could relate.

“You
okay?” he asked, kissing the pulse still beating erratic in her throat.

“Yes.”

Her
breathless reply warmed his temple.

“Glad
I
don’t have to go to the gym.”

He held
back a groan. Shit. He’d forgotten about his brother. “If it was anyone else,
I’d cancel, but I actually got Keiffer to agree to hang out tonight. I’m—”

A warm
finger pressed against his lip. “It’s okay. I understand. You go be with your
brother.”

So
damn sweet
. And open. Her gaze was unguarded, understanding.

Real.

No
deceit or lies, just honest emotions. She was refreshing, and although he
wanted to open up and tell her how he felt—that he loved her, trusted her—he
held back. Saying those things when you’re buried balls deep inside a woman
might not hold as much merit as if they were said outside the bedroom. Or
office…on a desk.

Still,
he couldn’t resist bending down and lightly brushing his lips to hers. “I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

She
traced his jaw with her finger. “Count on it.”

And he
did, more and more every day.

T
he next morning, Jill had just finished drizzling Better Than
chocolate on the last of three Chocolate Overload cakes when Teresa entered the
kitchen.

“Hey,
boss. How are you?”

Still
basking in her desk rendezvous with Mason yesterday, she smiled. Sex was always
incredible with the guy, but yesterday had been different. More. There was
something in his eyes and touch that had warmed her from the inside out, and
she was still feeling the effects.

“I’m
good. And you?”

 “Great.
Business already looks good out front in the shop. I’m getting excited about
the reopening of Confection Connection on Monday,” the petite beauty said,
hanging her coat on a hook before donning an apron. “So, what do you want me to
tackle first?”

They
discussed the day’s agenda and the grand reopening in two days. Even the media
was going to be there. She admittedly was nervous about the hype, but she also
hoped it might draw her ex out into the open. Pushing those thoughts aside, she
was about to mix the green piping for two dozen shamrock lollipops when her
cell phone rang.

Expecting
it to be Mason, she answered with a “Good morning,” keeping it quiet so Teresa
wouldn’t hear. Her pulse kicked up a notch just thinking about the guy who’d
put new meaning into doing business on her desk.

“Mornin’,
Jill.”

She
stiffened, then glanced around the kitchen, heart now thundering in her throat.
“Donny…” How had he gotten her number? Where was he?

Teresa
was on the other side of the room, laying out molds on the table. No one else
was in the kitchen with them.

Oh
God.
Instinct told her he was nearby.

“Aren’t
you going to come out front to see me? I’m purchasing chocolate for you right
now. We wouldn’t want any trouble, would we?”

Doing
her best not to panic, she slowly pushed through the door and into the shop,
her heart stopping at the sight of her ex indeed buying something at the
register. He glanced at her and smiled.

“Don’t
hang up,” he said, handing money to one of the teenagers she’d hired, then
pocketed the change, grabbed his bag and headed toward a display between her
and the door. “We’re going to keep this cool, got that?”

God, she
hardly recognized him. If he hadn’t been on the phone talking to her, and
looking at her as he talked, she wouldn’t have known it was Donny. He’d shaved
his head bald, wore glasses, and was dressed sharp, in a three-piece gray suit,
overcoat and a decent pair of shoes.

“What do
you want?” She stayed behind the counter, near the kitchen door. It gave her
almost a straight shot to the entrance into the lobby. The busy lobby. But
she’d have to go through him first.

Her
chest was so tight breathing hurt. She couldn’t believe how blatant and daring
he was to walk into the resort and stroll right to her new shop.

“What do
you want?” she repeated.

He
raised a brow. “Seriously? You have to ask? I want what’s mine,” he stated,
voice as hard as his granite expression. “I noticed renovations have started on
your store in town, so that must mean you got the insurance money. I want
what’s left, Jill. I need it.”

Even
though he was talking low, pretending to look at one of her displays, she heard
him loud and clear, and wished someone would happen by and recognize his face
and call the police. The guy had been plastered in the newspapers and on the
local television stations ever since the fire.

But not
one single person paid any attention to him. Although, she had to admit, the
changes he’d made to his appearance were radical.